


apodyopsis

by cresswell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Little Black Dress, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:46:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswell/pseuds/cresswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>apodyopsis (noun): the act of mentally undressing someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	apodyopsis

Stiles is nervous. Not that that’s saying much, because he’s spent three fourths of his life being nervous, but today is different. He has to give a speech. He has to be sappy. He has to give a _toast_.

"Breathe, man," Scott says from where he’s lounging on Stiles’s bed, struggling with his tie. "The way you’re acting, you’d think you’re going to be the one at the alter.”

"Believe me, I’d gladly make the switch," Stiles hisses, running his hands haphazardly through his hair.

Scott’s face wrinkles. “Gross. That’s my mom, dude.”

"You know what I mean." Stiles kicks the leg of his dresser and looks everywhere but at his reflection in the mirror above it. "Just- I know I’ll say the wrong thing. And my dad won’t get mad about it, but I don’t want to ruin their big day."

"Stiles," Scott soothes, dropping his head back against the headboard. "You won’t. Nothing could ruin today, least of all you." He stands, having given up on the tie, and claps Stiles on the shoulder. "I’m going to get Allison to help with this. I’ll see you soon… brother."

Despite everything, that prompts a silly grin from Stiles, because this is a day he and Scott have been waiting for since their parents met at their first playdate. He hears Scott saying hello to someone in the hallway, and then there’s a flash of movement in the mirror.

It’s Cora.

And she looks beautiful.

Which is a little strange, because “beautiful” isn’t a word he usually associates with Cora. Sexy, yeah. Hot, sure. Even cute sometimes. But the only word for her right now is beautiful.

Her hair is down her shoulders in not-quite curls, the honey hues in it standing out against her dress. Her dress which, oh god, is black and simple and off-the-shoulder and god, oh god, oh _god_.

"Before you say anything," Cora warns, pointing a finger threateningly at him, "Lydia picked out the dress and the shoes and the makeup. Which," she huffs, itching just beneath her eye, "is irritating.”

Stiles lets out a startled laugh, fidgeting with the end of his tie and trying to keep his eyes trained on her face. She cracks a smile, her eyes going to his hands. “Oh, god. You can’t tie one either?”

She’s striding across the room in her tall heels before he can retort, her hands reaching out to smooth his lapels down. “It’s so simple, honestly.”

Stiles finally finds his voice. “So I’ve heard.”

She arches an eyebrow, her fingers working nimbly, brushing across his neck and chest that actually make a startled sound rise from his throat. She finishes, smoothing her hand down his front once more, and frowns. “What is it?”

"What?" She’s jutting a hip out, which shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. He realizes with a jolt that because of her neckline- which is plunging- she can’t be wearing a bra.

Oh, _god_.

"Sounded like you were choking or something."

"Mm, nah,” Stiles says, but his voice comes out strangled, and Cora's eyebrows reach high on her forehead. He is trying very hard to not look down her dress. “I just- um- I'm nervous.”

Cora’s mouth is doing her half-smile thing, something he’s learned means she knows something he doesn’t, and she crosses her arms. It does glorious things for her chest. Not that he’s looking. “Nervous?”

"Yeah," Stiles says, letting out a huff of air and staring determinedly at the ceiling. "Nervous."

"Really." It sounds like she’s smirking. She probably is. "Because, as a werewolf with heightened senses, I know what nervousness smells like." She taps her finger lightly against his chest and it’s like a jolt of electricity spreading through each and every one of his cells. "But _you_ don’t smell like it."

Stiles swallows hard. “Well, I guess you being here made me feel better.”

"Stiles," she says, low and sexy in the back of her throat, and he can’t help but look at her. She’s moved closer, her hand knotted around his tie, and even he can see that her pupils are blown wide. "You smell like desire."

 _God_. “I am trying very hard not to look down your dress right now.”

She blinks, tilting her head to the side. “You can, if you want.” He watches in a mix of horror and want as her lips, painted pink, split into a devilish grin. “But if you get through this wedding as amazingly as I know you can, I’ll let you take it off later.”

“ _Cora_ ,” he practically groans, his eyelids falling shut. He just needs a minute. Even as a human, his senses are on overdrive. He can hear her laughing quietly. “That’s not fair.”

"Of course it is."

"No, it’s not." He cracks one eye open, peeking down at her. "You’re just messing with me."

For a moment, she looks genuinely offended, as if she’s hurt that he’d accuse her of such a thing. She tugs a little hard on his tie, yanking him impossibly closer. “I am _not_. I’m giving you motivation. Really, you should be thanking me.”

"Mhm," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "Well, not that I’m not thoroughly enjoying this, but I really should be focusing on-"

She cuts him off gently, sliding her hands into his hair and slotting their lips together. Stiles is so surprised that he grabs her waist, as if to steady himself, and feels a shiver trace up her spine. Surprisingly, she kisses gently, with more fondness than he would have expected. But she bites his lip and it gets impossibly hotter and her hands roam and his do too, and by the time they break apart, they both look disheveled in a way that makes Stiles’s pulse race.

"God," Cora says in a rare moment of speechlessness. Her pupils are so wide they almost swallow the ring of brown around them. "God, Stiles."

"Yeah," he says back, dropping his forehead against hers. He likes her like this- languid and kiss-shocked and bumping her nose against his. "Okay. Wow."

She laughs breathily, leaning back enough to kiss him one more time. It’s every bit as good as it was the first time.

When she steps back, she straightens her dress, wobbling unsteadily in her heels. She wipes a smear of lipgloss off the corner of her mouth before speaking. “Stiles, you’re going to kick ass with your speech. Your dad will love you- and your speech- no matter what.”

Stiles blinks, moved by the kindness in her tone. “I… Thanks, Cora. You know, you really did make me feel better.”

She tries to smirk but it turns into a grin, like she can’t control it, and that makes something warm unfurl itself in Stiles’s chest. “Well, my offer still stands. Just, you know. If you need something to think about during the ceremony.”

Stiles drops his head back and groans. He hears her laughing, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she darts out of the room, and the sound carries all the way down the hall.


End file.
